


make out

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, and Suga has Daichi wrapped around his little finger, in which Daichi is hopelessly in love with Suga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 20:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4151847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sugawara Koushi will probably be the death of Sawamura Daichi. Not that Daichi is complaining.<br/>[Daichi is hopelessly in love with Suga and, and... well, other things which Asahi (and Tsukki) really, really don't want to think about, thank you very much.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	make out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [craigifer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/craigifer/gifts).



> 1\. My entry for the Haikyuu!! Summer Holidays Exchange! This fic is a gift for [ craigifer ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/craigifer/pseuds/craigifer), based on their prompt requesting Daisuga smut with a side of daddy kink.

It’s no secret that he and Suga are together, at least not to the team. Daichi had had his reservations at first (because, well… he loves Suga, he does, he’s sure about it in the same way that he just _knows_ he’ll make the receive, instincts steady and true - but not everyone will see Suga and him that way, and that’s just how it is) but they’d proved groundless in the end. 

 

“About time,” Noya crows, when he hears about it by way of Asahi (naturally; Asahi tells Noya _everything_ , mostly because Noya either coaxes or bullies him into it). “Now you’re both officially team dad _and_ mom. I mean, not that you weren’t doing a good job of it before, but y’know..” He nods, grinning. “And Tanaka owes me. He betted you wouldn’t get the nerve up to tell Suga before inter-highs.” 

 

“Actually,” and both of them jump; Suga’s managed to sneak up behind them without either of them noticing, “ _I_ was the one who asked Daichi if he wanted to go out with me.” 

 

He beams at Daichi, who can’t help but reach out for his hand, linking their fingers together. Suga’s hand is warm and slightly calloused in his, and Daichi squeezes it gently, thumb brushing over his knuckles. He shifts his gaze to Suga, feeling a grin break out over his own face in response. “And I’m glad that you did.” 

 

Nearby, Tsukki coughs loudly, and it sounds suspiciously like ‘saps’. 

 

Daichi can’t find it in himself to glare at Tsukki - he’s too caught up in the moment for the first-year to ruin it, and it takes Tanaka’s exuberant bellowing as he enters the gym to shake him out of it and go back to Captain mode. 

 

* * *

 

The thing is, though. It’s been half a year and still… Suga is - well, Suga’s incredibly distracting, even when he doesn’t seem to realise it, and that’s just _unfair_. Daichi’s lost count of how many times he’s had to forcefully marshall his thoughts away from Suga’s smile and Suga’s eyes, and well, pretty much _everything_ about Suga, just so he can function normally on court. It’s a miracle that no one’s noticed so far. Karasuno’s chaos is a blessing in disguise, and one that he’s secretly thankful for on a regular basis. The team’s antics keep them busy scuffling and yelling among themselves, which is just fine, because if they knew, Daichi would probably never live it down. 

 

He sneaks a glance over at Suga, who’s seated a few desks across him. The setter’s resting his chin on his hand, eyes intent on the blackboard. Now and then he writes something down, brow furrowed in concentration. He’s wearing his glasses today, Daichi notices, the slim black frame perched on the bridge of his nose, and it’s a shame that Suga doesn’t wear them more often, because he looks really cute in them - - 

 

“SAWAMURA!” 

 

Daichi stumbles upright, his heart pounding at the shock. “Sorry!” 

 

Ishihara glares, index finger pointed squarely at Daichi. “For the _third_ time,” he snaps crabbily, “what happens in prophase II during meiosis?” 

 

“Uh -“ A frantic scan of his open textbook fails to yield anything helpful. 

 

“Centriole duplication,” Suga hisses, and Daichi repeats the answer, hoping Ishihara doesn’t press him further. 

 

The biology teacher scowls at him, but scribbles the answer down on the board. “Partially correct. Now, if you’ll be so kind to actually _pay attention_ , Sawamura, the nuclear envelope also breaks down…” 

 

Daichi’s spared the harangue, at least for now, and he slumps back into his seat, relieved. “Thanks,” he whispers to Suga, when Ishihara’s back is turned. 

 

 _You okay_? Suga mouths, slanting a concerned look over at him, and Daichi nods. He forces his thoughts into some semblance of order, and turns his gaze back to his textbook. The lesson drags on, and he can’t afford to space out again, not with Ishihara watching him like a hawk. He can’t wait for school to be over. 

 

* * *

 

 

Volleyball practice, however, isn’t actually any better. Hinata collides into Suga before practice - and somehow manages to spill the contents of his water bottle over them both. The liquid is violently pink, and apparently it’s some kind of protein shake, which, _okay_ , Daichi doesn’t want to know, and Hinata won’t stop apologizing. 

 

“It’s all right!” Suga waves it off. “I have a spare set of clothes - it’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it, Hinata!” 

 

Which wouldn’t be a problem, except that Suga’s spare shorts turn out to be _very_ short. Daichi can’t stop staring at the way the fabric hugs his ass, or notice how it rides up just a little every now and then, giving him a glimpse of a little more skin each time. He surreptitiously runs a finger under his nose to check if he has a nosebleed, and it’s a miracle he _doesn’t_ have one, really. 

 

It’s ridiculous. They’ve -  fooled around before, and he knows the feel of Suga’s body against his own by now, knows how _good_ it feels to be inside of him, Suga’s nails raking along his back as they move together - so he really shouldn’t be so affected by this, but he _is_. He wants to corner Suga in the locker room after, shove him back against the wall and kiss him, hard, needs to feel Suga’s teeth dragging slow and teasing along his lower lip; and it’s taking all his willpower to focus on practice. 

 

He fumbles one receive, then another. It’s getting to the point that Kageyama is starting to single him out - which is when Suga grabs his arm and pulls him to the side. 

 

“What’s going on?” He cocks his head to the side, the corners of his mouth turned down in worry and concern. “You were spacing out in class, and your receives are usually on point. Are you all right?” 

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just.” Daichi scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, avoiding Suga’s gaze. “I’m just tired.” 

 

 _“Daichi_.” Suga’s using his I Call Bullshit voice, the one he only really uses with Daichi, and Daichi relents. 

 

“I - um. I can’t stop thinking about you, and those _shorts_ \- “ he can’t bring himself to continue, and he covers his face with his hand, embarrassed. 

 

“Oh. _Oh_.” Suga grins, and Daichi just _knows_ he’s filing away that information for future use, fortunately (or unfortunately) for him - but hopefully the former. 

 

“Tell you what,” he continues, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Win this game for us, and I’ll let you fuck me later, however you want.” 

 

“ _God_ ,” Daichi groans, feeling heat begin to pool at the base of his spine, arousal flaring hot through his veins, “you’re going to be the death of me, Suga.” 

 

“Are Mom and Dad done with the lovey talk now? ‘Cause I wanna get back to kicking Dad’s ass, thanks so much!” Tanaka yells over at them. 

 

Suga winks at Daichi, and walks back on court. “Yeah - Daddy’s just a bit under the weather, is all. That won’t be a problem anymore, I don’t think.” 

 

Tsukki gags. “Can we _not_ \- I mean, can you not call him that please? I feel like I need to bleach my eardrums because that’s just - “ 

 

And then Daichi’s marching back to his position because he’s _not_ going to hear what Tsukki’s going to say next. “ENOUGH,” he roars, and thankfully, everyone complies for once. Daichi’s team - that is - he, Suga, Asahi and Noya - go on to win the match by the skin of their teeth. 

 

* * *

 

 

Their plans don’t work out, though. It’s a Friday, which means dropping by the convenience store for a post-match snack with Asahi, and although Daichi’s more than happy to reschedule, _Suga_ isn’t. 

 

Suga says it’s not nice to bail on Asahi; Daichi privately thinks Suga’s just doing this to mess with him, but he goes along with it anyway. 

 

They settle into their usual seats, across from Asahi, and tuck into their gyoza. Apart from the occasional mutter from Ukai as he browses this week’s edition of of _Shōnen Jump,_ the shop is quiet. 

 

Daichi’s just congratulating himself for managing to keep his thoughts away from Suga (and those treacherous shorts) before Suga looks up from his food, “Y’know, now that I think about it, daddy actually suits you quite well.” 

 

He inhales about half his iced tea by accident and spends the next few moments trying not to choke and die. 

 

Asahi stares at the both of them, a horrified look on his face. “This is a sex thing, isn’t it,” he says, sounding faint. 

 

“No!” Daichi splutters out, and shit, he can _feel_ his face turning red, warmth climbing up his neck and washing across his cheeks. He’s probably scarlet with mortification by now. 

 

Suga only grins, “It could be,” and he has the gall to sound absolutely unrepentant about it, the little _shit_ - 

 

Asahi’s head hits the table with a thump and a whimper. “ _Please_ just stop, I don’t want to hear about it.” 

 

Daichi coughs, trying to clear his lungs of iced tea. He glares at Suga when his eyes have finally stopped watering. The way the setter is smiling back at him, it’s like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Except it _would_ – Daichi knows from experience how sinful that mouth can be, hot and slick and wrapped around him, and he makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat at the recollection,  and just – no. No, he is _not_ going to pop a boner while _Asahi_ ’ _s_ here, in a _public_ setting, no. _God_. Daichi is so, so screwed, and judging by the way Suga leans in, just a little, hand resting at the small of Daichi’s back as he asks if Daichi’s fine, Suga knows it, too. 

Asahi takes off not long after that, _thank God_ , because Daichi doesn’t think he can wait any longer, not with Suga so close to him and not being able to touch him how he really wants. 

 

“Let’s go.” He catches hold of Suga’s hand and hustles him out the door, shoulders bumping companionably against each other, and it’s really not fair how that simple contact makes Daichi burn. 

 

Suga raises a questioning eyebrow at him - they aren’t usually very public with their affection, Suga being a giant tease aside - but there aren’t many people out, and more importantly, Daichi’s done with waiting. “I just wanted to,” he says. 

 

Suga’s mouth quirks upwards. “My house. It’s nearer. ‘Sides,” and he shoots Daichi a sly look, glancing up at him from under his eyelashes, coy and flirtatious all at once, “My parents are away for the weekend.” 

 

"That's decided, then.” His voice slips lower, almost a growl; Daichi’s already envisaging Suga spread out under him, and from the way Suga’s eyes darken, his thoughts lie in much in the same direction. 

 

* * *

 

He keeps his hands to himself while Suga unlocks the main gate, mostly out of consideration for the neighbors, though the minute they’re through the door, Daichi’s on him, his mouth hot and demanding as he nips at Suga. Suga drops his keys somewhere in between, a hand settling at the nape of Daichi’s neck to hold him in place, the other sliding beneath his shirt to map out his skin. 

 

They’re breathing hard by the time they have to part; Suga’s hair is rumpled, and  he’s grinning, wide and bright. He runs his hands down Daichi’s sides; leans in for another kiss, stealing Daichi’s breath away just as soon he’s got it back. 

 

“I’m all yours, daddy.” Suga purrs, and that’s exactly the kind of line that belongs in bad porn that involves way too much lace and leather to be healthy (for Daichi, anyway), but somehow hearing it from Suga makes his breath catch and his knees go weak. 

 

“God,” he sighs, leaning his forehead against Suga’s, “Has anyone ever told you you’re too dangerous for your own good?” 

 

“You _like_ it,” Suga smirks at him, and he drops his hand lower, cups him through his shorts, and Daichi groans, hips canting into his touch. “What are you waiting for? C’mon, daddy - “ and that’s when the last shred of Daichi’s resolve evaporates. 

 

“Bed,” he manages, hand fisting in the fabric of Suga’s shirt as he tugs it off him. They’re both dirty from practice, but Daichi doesn’t care. He’s waited long enough; he’s damned if he’s going to wait anymore. 

 

They stumble through the house, shedding their practice clothes as they go; and that’s going to be troublesome to clear later, but _later_ , right now all that matters is Suga’s mouth and the noises he makes when Daichi palms him through those ridiculous shorts of his. Suga’s knees bump into the mattress, and he goes down with a startled yelp, Daichi half-sprawling on top of him. 

 

He surges forward, teeth dragging down the curve of Suga’s neck, tasting salt. Daichi’s careful not to leave marks, though - he’d love to scatter wine-dark bruises along his throat so that everyone knows that Suga’s _his_ , but they can’t afford awkward questions, and so he kisses down his chest instead, takes his time, even though Suga’s wriggling semi-impatiently under him. He circles a nipple with his tongue, watches it pebble and harden under his ministrations, the bud growing a darker, flushed pink, Suga’s moans growing louder the longer Daichi draws his pleasure out. 

 

“Daddy, please - “ Suga chokes out, eventually, and Daichi takes pity on him, hooks his fingers in the hem of Suga’s shorts and tugs them down, watches as his cock springs free, the salt-musk of it thick in the air. He laps at the tip where the musk is strongest, groaning as the taste of it fills his mouth. It’s still a little strange, but he doesn’t mind when it’s Suga, or when Suga’s hand tightens in his hair, tugging him impatiently down towards his flushed erection. 

 

Daichi humors him, laps a lazy stripe from base to tip, pressing a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to the weeping, swollen head before he takes him into his mouth. He can’t take Suga all the way down - not yet, but he wraps his hand around the bit he can’t reach, jerking him off while he works him with his mouth. Suga moans, hips jerking up, fighting Daichi’s grip, but Daichi’s got the advantage of strength over Suga’s lean build, and he keeps his hips pinned to the bed, despite the increasing pitch of Suga’s cries. 

 

Suga makes a dazed noise when Daichi pulls off, the sound slick and obscene in the relative quiet of the room. “What - why - “ he whines, disappointed, and Daichi pets his thigh.

 

“Are you -  are you going to be good and let daddy fuck you?” On some level, he’s horrified that he’s actually _saying_ this, but his lizard brain revels in it nevertheless - Suga’s right, he likes this, and from the way Suga moans his agreement and spreads his legs, he’s getting off on this as much as Daichi is. 

 

“Yeah,” Suga licks his lips, eyes intent and _hungr_ y on Daichi. “Fuck me, daddy. _Please_.” 

 

Daichi needs no further encouragement. He lunges out the bed, crashes across the room, and after a moment’s rummaging around in Suga’s sock drawer he’s back with the lube and a condom. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve waited long enough.” 

 

Suga’s breath hitches as Daichi slicks his fingers and presses them in. His eyes flutter closed and he tosses his head on the pillow, hair fanning out around his head in a halo of silver strands, and all Daichi can think is, _beautiful_. Suga’s tight and hot around his fingers; Daichi can feel him quivering from within, his pulse rabbit-quick, and he crooks his fingers, shifts them a little deeper - -Suga gasps and grinds back impatiently, inner muscles fluttering and clenching down, and yeah, _that’s_ the spot. 

 

“Yeaaaah,” Suga practically whimpers, and then he’s gripping Daichi’s wrist impatiently, tugging his fingers free. “C’mon, fuck me already, _Daichi_.” 

 

Suga’s never had to try particularly hard to get Daichi to do anything; Daichi can’t bring himself to mind, especially not in this, and he rips the foil open and slides the condom on, hissing a little as the movement sends more pleasure flooding through him. 

 

“Daichi - “ Suga’s already reaching for him, his hand shaking a little as he guides Daichi in, and Daichi bucks his hips forward at the first press of heat, marveling at the way Suga’s body opens for him, as if welcoming him back, and he slides all the way in, muffling a groan in Suga’s shoulder. 

 

Suga wraps his arms around him, heel digging into the small of Daichi’s back, urging him on, and Daichi responds in kind, pulling back a little before snapping his hips and driving back in, pushing past the resistance until there’s none left, until Suga is panting and still demanding more - he wraps a hand around Suga’s cock, pumps him hard and fast, and it doesn’t take long before Suga is crying out and spilling hot over his fingers. Daichi gasps, tries to keep the rhythm - he wants this to last -  but the pleasure spirals higher and faster, and soon he’s gone too, fingers digging into Suga’s hips as Daichi spends himself inside of him, riding out the high of his orgasm. 

 

A minute later (or maybe several minutes, Daichi’s not really counting), Suga’s fingers are running through his hair, drawing lazy patterns into his scalp, and Daichi blinks up at him, feeling pleasantly worn out. 

 

“Well. _That_ was fun.” Suga declares, and Daichi mumbles his agreement. “Also, you’re heavy,” he pushes at Daichi’s shoulder, and Daichi only growls, unwilling to let go of him or move. Suga pinches his side in retaliation, and Daichi finally flops over onto his side. 

 

“I guess this means I can’t call you daddy in front of the team anymore,” Suga muses, and Daichi colors, despite himself. 

 

“What am I going to do with you,” he groans. 

 

Suga kisses him, catches his lower lip with his teeth and tugs, dragging a low groan from him. “Well, I have a couple ideas…” he nudges Daichi’s nose with his own, grinning at him like he’s won the lottery and _Daichi_ is his prize. Which is ridiculous, because Daichi’s pretty sure he’s the one that got lucky with Suga, not the other way around. 

 

It’s getting late, and some objective part of Daichi knows he should go home. But Suga’s right here, with him, and he doesn’t want to go, not yet. Daichi smiles at him, and takes Suga’s hand in his. “Is that so? Guess I’m all yours, then.” 

 

“Good, ‘cause I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

 

And really, neither would Daichi. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are appreciated! <3


End file.
